


The Road So Far

by ThayerKerbasy



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Canon Bisexual Character, Canon Compliant, Canon Gay Relationship, Canonical Character Death, Critical View of Season 10, M/M, Regret, basically lots of canon, season 10 coda
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-21
Updated: 2016-08-21
Packaged: 2018-08-10 04:03:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7829734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThayerKerbasy/pseuds/ThayerKerbasy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chuck takes a bit of time off from manipulating the universe and has some regrets.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Road So Far

The night was dark and stormy, rain pounding against the window like wet, dead fingers begging to be let inside, the blackness around him only disturbed by a flash of lightning. He buried his head in his hands, shivering and flinching when the thunder rolled.

“What have I done?” he murmured to himself, over and over again. “What the hell have I done.” 

Commensurate with his mood, the dark and deserted bar echoed with his guilt-ridden words, the emptiness casting back his own accusations. The atmosphere was a perfect reflection of his feelings, and a small part of Chuck's infinite consciousness took note of each contributing factor for future use. The rest of his thoughts were occupied in dwelling on the utter catastrophe that had somehow come to pass.

* * *

It had all begun when he decided to stop writing for awhile. It hadn't seemed like such an awful thing at the time. Explore his glorious creation on the small scale, meet some of his humans face to face, experience life in all its beautiful detail; one of the best ideas he'd ever had, really. Each country yielded new experiences – new foods, new music, new people – and he had soaked it all up enthusiastically. 

He was at a lovely little cafe in France, eating macarons and updating his cat blog, when he felt it; somewhere in the world, his sibling had been released.

To some degree, he knew everything that happened everywhere. He had simply chosen not to pay attention while he was on vacation. Sure, he had felt all the prayers, but those were easily ignored. He'd had plenty of practice at that. He had idly noticed Metatron burning a copy of Tall Tales while showboating for Castiel, but he could shrug off the implied criticism there (for now). The deeper stories though, he had allowed to filter through his subconsciousness to be dealt with later. The rest could take care of itself for a little while, right?

He had known immediately. Almond and meringue became like dust in his mouth, previously soothing piano and violin sounded discordant, he could have stood and pointed unerringly in the direction of his sister. For sister she must be, because he was light and she was darkness, he was creation and she was unmaking, he had chosen male so she would choose female if only to oppose him in yet another way. She would be furious.

It was a moment's thought to create for himself the safest place he could imagine. Creation was kind of his thing, after all. A bubble outside of time and space, shielded against discovery, created in the image of the most welcoming place he could remember enjoying. Home to friendly conversations and great music, he had thought it would be the perfect place to hide while his sister destroyed everything he had ever loved.

Beer and solitude were a recipe for introspection, which for Chuck meant reviewing everything that had occurred while he was away on vacation. The TV over the bar cast its light over the room, a warm glow that invited him to shut out the rest of the world and all its troubles. He quickly skipped over to his favourite channels. The Winchesters and everyone they associated with were prime viewing. A plate of nachos joined his frothy beer and he watched events unfold in fascination. Some episodes were good, some were not so good (Man's Best Friend With Benefits was downright cringe-worthy), but overall it was some quality entertainment. 

The world had carried on without him. While he had been gallivanting around the world partaking of life's many pleasures, he had ignored the things he had once monitored. It seemed Metatron had taken to writing the scripts while Chuck had been busy. Little plans that Chuck had set into motion were things that Metatron had been unaware of.

After watching I'm No Angel, he ran out of nachos. First Born made him drain his beer and pour a new one, all while glaring at the screen. He skipped Bloodlines altogether so he could get back to the good stuff, but the more he watched, the more upset he became. After he finished Do You Believe In Miracles, he threw his beer at the wall. As rain began to fall lightly outside, he poured a new beer (the old one cleaned itself up with hardly a thought) and sat back down to continue watching.

It didn't get any better. By the end of Black he was in tears. He stood and began to pace, accompanied by the pitter patter of rain falling more heavily. “I shouldn't have let it get this far. It took me years to build a solid foundation and now look what's happened. It went canon. Who the heck let Drowley go canon?! It was supposed to be Destiel!”

There was more to watch, but he was afraid of what he would see. He drained his beer, poured a new one, and queued up Reichenbach, feeling slightly nauseous. By the end, he had shoved away both beer and nachos, unable to stomach either anymore. Determined to power through, he watched Soul Survivor immediately after and was glad he did. “Okay, we're on the right track again, that's good,” he said to nobody in particular.

He was almost in a good mood again by the time he reached Fan Fiction, which perked him up substantially. That was one he remembered. Those girls had kindly sent him a ticket to their opening night performance and he had been more than happy to take them up on their offer. The second act had been a little strange, but their hearts had been in the right place.

His spirits bolstered, he continued his marathon, but that uneasy feeling soon began to creep up on him again. He couldn't have said what it was (resolutely ignoring the evidence of his sister's release upon the world) but it definitely put a damper on his binge watching. He began to silently root for Rowena.

As the ongoing story progressed, Chuck spared a moment to wonder who had named the snippets of story before remembering he had been doing so in his subconsciousness while on a date with a young man in Denmark. He mentally congratulated himself for Paint It Black.

Book of the Damned brought that unease back to the forefront and he couldn't shake it. Something was going to go horribly wrong. The Werther Project and Angel Heart were interesting, well-told stories that distracted him a little, but then he started Dark Dynasty and he knew. From the moment he started watching, he had known.

He forced himself to watch. He had been absent, Metatron had been imprisoned, nobody was left to write the script, so events unfolded without an experienced hand to guide them. All of his favourite characters claimed they did what they had to do, and everything went wrong. He watched in horror as one of his favourite fans died pointlessly in a gurgling mess. He forgot all about the state of romantic ships and the impending destruction of all creation. He was overcome with grief for Charlie.

The night was dark and stormy, rain pounding against the window like wet, dead fingers begging to be let inside, the blackness around him only disturbed by a flash of lightning. He buried his head in his hands, shivering and flinching when the thunder rolled.

“What have I done?” he murmured to himself, over and over again. “What the hell have I done.” 

The darkened pub he had created for himself continued to oblige Chuck's desire for appropriate atmosphere. Strong winds wailed a mournful lament and rattled the windows in their frames, giving voice to the souls of those he had wronged. When Amara tried to get his attention, she was no competition for the dead. She could go ahead and destroy the universe. His favourite show was already ruined.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is an entry for the August Spn Coldest Hits challenge. Details can be found here http://spncoldesthits.tumblr.com/post/148681056700/augusts-prompt-posting-dates-20-23-of-august
> 
> To those of you who legitimately enjoyed my Dean/Crowley fic On The Lemonade last month, I am working on a sequel. It's just proving to be resistant to being written.


End file.
